


Waterman of the Dead

by merryghoul



Category: James Asher Vampire Series - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Edwardian Period, Gen, London, Misogyny, Missing Scene, Murderers, Newspapers, On the Run, Oxford, Staged Crime Scene, Vampire Slayer(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/pseuds/merryghoul
Summary: Moments before, during, and after James Asher’s destruction of the lairs of the Master of London, Lionel Grippen.  (Mostly set during the last chapter ofThe Kindred of Darkness.)





	Waterman of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melannen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melannen/gifts).



> General notes about this work:
> 
> There are two scenes, based off a brief mention in canon, involving two characters murdering another character and staging it as a suicide of a possible child molester. One of those scenes has a gory description of the death (as an outsider to the staged suicide would see it), in line with "death journalism" of the period.
> 
> Grippen has a canonical dislike of Catholicism and has used disparaging words against Ysidro (as Ysidro was a former Catholic priest before he was a vampire) in canon. He's also canonically misogynistic, and has used misogynistic swear words against women in canon as well.

_London, June 1913._

Don Simon Ysidro found Lionel Grippen, the Master of London, in one of his lairs, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Ysidro stood in front of Grippen as he wrote at a table. “Lionel.” 

A scowl formed on Grippen’s face. “I’ve a door, Spaniard. Next time, knock.” 

“You know why I am here.” 

“His child’s safe with his family.” Grippen didn’t mention James Asher’s name or the name of the child in question, Miranda, but he certainly meant Asher and Miranda in this case. “I owe him a favour. Other than that, I have no business with him now. Go away.”

“I have observed Asher and his family from afar from time to time in Oxford. He has not slept well in days.”

Grippen sarcastically chuckled. “Like the sneaky arse you are.” 

“You underestimate Asher, Lionel. You see Asher as someone you can call upon for your various needs.”

“Don’t you do the same thing?”

“Yes, but I have not harmed his wife nor his child.” Asher’s wife, being Lydia. “You almost struck Asher’s wife. Your actions lead to Asher walking around Oxford with a cane and claiming he had some sort of injury in Padua. And you are the reason why he cannot sleep. 

“There is also the matter of the Scroobys. They are still missing, along with Mr Scrooby’s brother and brother-in-law.”

“You don’t care about the Scroobys. And nobody likes Reggie Barns.” Reggie Barns was Mr Scrooby’s brother-in-law. He was known for two things: having a bad temper, and having a fondness for drink.

“But Asher knows of their disappearance. He will be looking for them as well as getting vengeance upon you. Right now, Asher is still walking with his cane. But once he can part himself from his cane, I would advise you to get out of his way.”

Grippen laughed. “Are you suggesting...”

“I plan to be away from London for a few weeks, to evade his wrath. I do not care what you do if you are in his way, but if you value your position as Master of London, I advise you to stay out of it.” 

The silence was broken by Grippen one he realized Ysidro was no longer in front of him. “Papist cur!” 

Shortly after Ysidro left the den, Mrs Raleigh appeared in front of Grippen. Mrs Raleigh, her first name unknown, was one of Grippen’s newer fledglings. Her green silk dress, flashy with its beads and sequins, was torn, dirty, and bloodied from roaming the streets and the underground of London.

“You heard everything.”

Mrs Raleigh nodded, her features appearing cat-like in the darkness.

“The Spaniard’s right. I’ve decided I’m going into hiding. You can help.”

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve no choice. I need an accomplice. I can do everything by myself, but if I had someone with me, I can do everything I need to do faster. And if there’s any one of my fledglings I’d rather have with me now, it’s you.”

“What about the rest of us?”

“I can’t take all of you. It’s impossible.”

“I know you, Grippen. You wouldn’t take any of us at all.”

“Asher’s going to know if all my lairs are empty. Some of you have to stay. But if you help me, I’ll get you out of the way of Asher.”

 

After encountering the mysterious “Dr G,” the Scoobys, Barns, and Scrooby’s brother, Mick, were still alive. However, they were in one of Grippen’s lairs. Grippen told them they’d be released when the matter surrounding Asher’s daughter, Miranda, had died down. 

Grippen decided to visit them in the makeshift prison in this particular lair. “I’ve changed my mind,” Grippen said to all of them. Grippen’s figure was barely visible to the Scroobys and Reggie Barns in the lair cell. “I’m selling the pub.”

Unsurprisingly, Henry Scrooby was angry. “It’s my pub!” He pointed at what he could make out of Grippen. “I’m the proprietor. The Scythe has been in my name for years. You can’t take it away from me because I work for you.”

Reggie Barns charged towards Grippen, but Grippen was able to push Barns against a wall with a single hand.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Grippen said to Henry Scrooby. “Not if you work for me. I warned you all what happened if you’d failed me. And you have failed me.”

“I’m sorry about Dr G,” Mrs Scrooby said. “I should’ve stopped the meeting when I had a chance.”

Other shadowy figures lined up behind Grippen. One of them was Mrs Raleigh. 

“I’ve made my decision,” Grippen said, leaving the Scroobys and Barns with Mrs Raleigh and the figures.

 

Hours later, Mrs Raleigh tossed a bag into what used to be the River Effra. The bag would either sink to the bottom of the Effra, which was now part of the London sewerage system, or wash down into the Thames. Either way, she was confident the last place Asher would be looking for the remains of the Scroobys and Barns would be at the bottom of a river.

 

The “SALES BY AUCTION” section of _The Daily Telegraph,_ London, a Friday edition in June 1913:

By Luca HOLMES, FOSTER, FRANCIS, and BALL.

At the AUCTION MART.

On WEDNESDAY NEXT, at two o’clock.

By order of the Executor.

STEPNEY.--A PUB, in a well-trafficked area. Living quarters upstairs. Tap room.

Particulars of Mr Graves, London, and Luca Holmes, Foster, Francis, and Ball, London.

 

Throughout the rest of June, more advertisements appeared for auction in _The Daily Telegraph._ A residence here, a business there. All of them were particulars of a Mr Graves, along with his auction partners. To Grippen’s relief, all of them were sold, so Asher, if he was paying attention to the newspapers, couldn’t figure out the business activities of a “Mr Graves” in _The Daily Telegraph_ to effectively track him.

And yet there were still humans that could lead Asher to Grippen. Those humans had to be out of the way as well, whether they liked it or not. 

 

Timothy Rolleston, he of Barclays Bank, was told to expect an old friend in his residence via a letter someone had sent him. He wasn’t expecting Grippen to visit him, with a knife, no less. Following Grippen was Mrs Raleigh with a scrapbook. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Even while alarmed, Rolleston’s voice was light. 

“Asher’s coming for me, and he’s going to try and find me through you.”

“Who’s Asher?”

“You know his wife. The one with the red hair. She found you. If she tells Asher about you, I’m dead.” 

“Where do you want me to go? If you’ll give me time to pack--”

“It’s too late. Asher’s coming sooner or later.”

“Why?”

“I kidnapped his child. That’s why he wants me dead. And now you’ll have to die.” 

Rolleston’s face was turning white. “What?”

Mrs Raleigh slammed the book in front of Rolleston. Grippen placed the knife on top of the scrapbook. 

“What’s in the scrapbook?”

“Girls’ hair ribbons,” Mrs Raleigh said.

“Why would I need a scrapbook filled with hair ribbons?”

Grippen grabbed Rolleston’s left arm. Mrs Raleigh grabbed Rolleston’s right arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s find out.”

Grippen and Mrs Raleigh lowered their fangs onto Rolleston’s arms.

 

With the Scythe sold, Rolleston dead, and Grippen’s other concerns handled, he kept his promise and took Mrs Raleigh into hiding with him.

“You may be wondering why we’re headed to the Bank of England,” Grippen said as he took Mrs Raleigh’s hand, somewhere in the vicinity of Moorgate station. “‘Twasn’t always a bank. Part of ‘twas a church, St Christopher le Stocks. The bank cuffins bought the church but the government promised them not to touch the graveyard near the church. Guess who obtained a plot or two near St Christopher le Stocks before ‘twas torn down? 

“I don’t tell my other fledgings and associates about the Bank of England. They’d tell that papist whoreson and the Ashers about the plot. And God knows who else. After all this is over, if you tell anyone about the Bank of England, I’ll throw you in the middle of Threadneedle just before the Bank opens. One more thing—you know how to turn into a bat? You don’t, you will burn in Threadneedle.”

 

Ysidro had seen Asher attending The Boat Race—the annual rowing race between Oxford University Boat Club and Cambridge University Boat Club—on a Pathé News newsreel. And Ysidro was well aware of the successes of New College Boat Club, the rowing club of New College; the boat club had won silver in the 1912 Summer Olympics. Asher was at The Boat Race because some of his students raced for Oxford University Boat Club. Asher would be expected at the Henley Royal Regatta, the July rowing race in Henley-on-Thames. Even if New College Boat Club wasn’t racing in this year’s regatta (which they were), the regatta was an event where anyone of Asher’s social standing would want to be seen.

Which was why Ysidro had a suspicion that Asher was going to make his attack on Grippen during the Henley Royal Regatta, when most of wealthy London would be in Henley-on-Thames and not in the city itself. Asher was not going to succeed in killing Grippen. Grippen was way too old and way too smart to allow himself to be killed by one irate human. But he knew some of Grippen’s fledgings would be sacrificed for Grippen. And if Asher found out Ysidro helped Grippen, it could mean the end for him as well.

As night fell one evening upon Waterloo station, Ysidro bought a ticket from London to Southampton, on the Brittany. From Southampton Ysidro would travel on the Brittany, carefully hiding his inability to move while travelling across running water, to Caen. From there he’d travel by rail to Paris. That way, if Ysidro felt a need to visit Asher, he’d be out of Asher’s way, just in case Asher wanted to physically retaliate against him in any way.

 

_Oxford, late June, 1913._

Asher read _The Daily Telegraph’s_ account of Rolleston’s death. As soon as Asher read the first paragraph, describing Rolleston supposedly looking at a scrapbook of ribbons he had collected from young girls, and Rolleston thinking of the vile things he did with those girls, Asher knew this was not the work of Rolleston, but the work of Grippen to cover his tracks. Asher still pressed on with reading the gory account anyway. _The Daily Telegraph_ went on to claim Rolleston, in shame, took a dagger down one of his forearms, mutilating his blood vessels and letting the blood bleed all over the table he was sitting at. Before Rollenston lost strength in his dominant hand, he carved open the other forearm before collasping on his table, awaiting the landlord of his room to discover his shameful secrets.

Asher threw his copy of the _The Daily Telegraph_ in the trash in a rage. But he wasn’t dissuaded by Grippen’s work. There was still hope Asher could find the Scroobys, Reggie, and Mick. And Asher was still confident that he would find Grippen and destroy him for good.

 

_Oxford, 2 July 1913._

Lydia cradled Miranda in her arms, as the two were in the middle of the living room of their home. “You haven’t slept well in days, Jamie.” 

Asher looked out at nothing in particular in his chair, nodding. “I know.” A pause. “Do you have any sodium nitrate in your supply?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’m going to destroy every vampire in London that tried to harm Miranda, you, and me. They’ve done nothing but push and shove us around for years. No more. For once, I want to live in peace.”

“Even Ysidro?”

Asher looked out in the distance again. “If I have to, yes, even Ysidro. You said he lived on Spaniard’s Lane. Do you know his address?”

Lydia looked down. “He does. But I wasn’t able to get his address. I can give you a description of where he lives. Maybe it will be enough.” A pause. “When are you using the sodium nitrate?”

“Tomorrow.”

“During the Henley Royal Regatta?” 

“It’s the best time. Most of London will be heading towards the regatta.” 

“I think I have twenty ampoules. That should be more than enough.”

“Good.”

“I assume you won’t be coming out to the regatta?”

“Not on the first day, at least. I’ll need you and Miranda to be there to support New College in my absence.”

“Will you be okay while Miranda and I go to the regatta?”

“I’ll be okay, Lydia.” 

“Once you’re done, Jamie, please get some rest.” 

“I’ll rest when they’re all dead.” 

 

_Blewbury, 2 July 1913._

Blewbury is a village twenty-three kilometres south of Oxford, in the county of Berkshire. It is very much characteristic of several villages throughout England: there is a parish church, some almshouses, a public house, and several farms and cottages. It was also the place where Asher drove down to look for hawthorn. 

In a wooded area just outside of Blewbury was a grouping of common hawthorn trees. With his saw, Asher cut off several of the branches of one of the hawthorn trees, removing the leaves, berries, and twigs. He tied the branches together as if he was gathering up firewood.

Back in Oxford, Asher spent the rest of his day carving points the hawthorn branches, while smoothing out the wood so the sticks wouldn’t hurt his hands. 

 

_Oxford, 3 July 1913._

The first thing Asher did when he awoke was put on a fake moustache. Most of London society wouldn’t see Asher riding on his motorcycle throughout London, but the poorer people of London could possibly identify Asher if they had mistaken him for a murderer. It was best to put on a moustache, at least to throw off any sketch artist that would try to draw a composite of him from eyewitness accounts. 

With his hawthorn stakes, ampoules of sodium nitrate, hypodermic needles, and a spare set of clothes packed on his motorcycle, Asher went into his bedroom and kissed Lydia on her forehead. He did the same with Miranda in her nursery. They would be leaving later on train to head to the regatta. He had to leave while it was still dark. He only had so much time before the sun rose over London, and he needed every moment of early sunlight he could use.

 

_London, 3 July 1913._

As Asher arrived in London from the north-west, he would begin his search for Grippen’s lairs in the north-west of London. The closest lair to him after he arrived in London was near Lots Road Power Station, near Counter’s Creek, in Chelsea. He entered the sewer near the power station and made his way to a tunnel-like area that was under the power station.

The Counter’s Creek lair was rapidly filling with life, but there was still a dark part of the station where some of Grippen’s fledglings were resting. He noticed at this particular lair a former foe of his: the vampire known as Jerry. Jerry was one of the vampires, along with vampires calling themselves Penelope, Sir Geoffrey Vauxhill, and Mrs Raleigh, that almost devoured him after he was trapped in a garden on a property known as Thamesmire, near Woolwich and its Arsenal. Asher couldn’t forget Jerry gripping his arm, his Cockney accent lingering in his ears. The image made him more determined to end Jerry once and for all. 

Asher looked around the tunnel-like part in Lots Road Power Station. The other vampires that attacked Asher on Thamesmire weren’t there. However, there were more vampires in the tunnel area. Asher assumed the vampires to also be Grippen’s fledglings, and that Grippen told them to spread out across London, so Asher couldn’t find a direct path to Grippen. 

With the fledglings at rest, Asher, went to work. Asher took out his saw and decapitated Jerry first. It didn’t take Asher long to decapitate Jerry. For one, Lydia instructed Asher on the areas he needed to focus on if he wanted to take a human’s head off, let alone a vampire. And two, it wasn’t like he was severing the head off of a living person, which would have taken Asher a bit longer to remove. Asher threw Jerry’s head to an opening where sunlight was peaking out. With Jerry’s head removed, Asher set to work removing the heads of the other vampires in the tunnel and placing them were Jerry’s head was. 

Next was the business of staking Jerry and the decapitated vampires. Blood flew everywhere as the hawthorn stakes broke through the vampires’ rib cages and plunged through their hearts, but at least the bodies wouldn’t retaliate and attempt to attack Asher. After the bodies were injected with silver nitrate, Asher was confident the bodies wouldn’t move any longer. He moved the headless, staked bodies closer to the light and let the bodies burn. Asher was certain the workers in Lots Road would stop the burning corpses before they did anything to the power station.

 

Asher spent the morning travelling to Grippen’s lairs, weaving through the London streets on his motorcycle as quickly as possible, so people wouldn’t notice the blood and grime on his clothing. He rode to Westminster station, technically open but still unfinished in some areas, and left the bodies smouldering near a construction site. He found Penelope, another vampire that tormented him in the garden, in a sewer in Woolrich, where all Asher had to do was leave a manhole cover open to see her body burn, as well as the other vampires that were with her. 

After exterminating a lair in a sewer in Poplar, Asher headed to a lair near the Underground station at Whitechapel. The Scythe was near Whitechapel, so Asher assumed the Scroobys, Mick and Reggie were in this lair. 

Asher quickly exterminated the vampires in Whitechapel and left them to burn on train tracks near Whitechapel station. He then went back into the lair and searched for the Scroobys, Mick, and Reggie. Asher looked wherever there were vampires in the lair. He did find an area that looked like an underground prison, but it was empty. No humans, no vampires, no animal life. There was, however, a piece of red and blue calico fabric—a signature part of Mrs Scrooby’s clothing.

Upon seeing the calico fabric, Asher turned over a table and headed back to his motorcycle, more determined than ever to find and destroy Grippen. 

 

The only other vampire Asher was recognized in his quest to annihilate Grippen’s lairs was Sir Geoffrey Vauxhill. His body was in a sewer along what used to be the Tyburn River. Asher drug his body, and all the other bodies of the vampires he found in the Tyburn, close to the river’s end, in the Thames. 

As Asher watched Vauxhill’s body burst into flames, he realized he had went to every one of Grippen’s lairs in London. He had destroyed the fledglings he had personally encountered during his dealings with the dead as well as several fledglings he never knew. And he didn’t find Grippen, or, curiously enough, Mrs Raleigh. 

Asher went back to his motorcycle and decided to head to Spaniard’s Lane, where he hoped Ysidro was staying. It would turn out that whatever details Lydia tried to remember about Spaniard’s Lane were insufficient. But Asher didn’t realize he wouldn’t reach Spaniard’s Lane.

He had the hope of seeing his close ally again, and that was all that mattered to him in the moment.

 

_Oxford, 4 July 1913._

Asher did get some sleep after destroying most of Grippen’s lairs. He realized he couldn’t keep wanting to destroy Grippen and the rest of his fledglings. Since Asher couldn’t find Grippen, Asher assumed Grippen was out there, and he’d have new fledglings and find new properties to own. 

Asher went into his wardrobe and put on his finest clothes. He was able to catch Lydia and Miranda before they were leaving for Henley-on-Thames. “I’ve decided to come with you to the regatta,” he said to Lydia.

“Did you kill them all?” Lydia asked, asking about Grippen and his fledglings.

Asher shook his head. “But I don’t have to. I thought about some things in my sleep, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d like to spend some time with my family today, and at least for the rest of this regatta. Light and warmth are very brief, Lydia. Darkness is long. Let’s spend some time together in the light for once. Even if it is around humourless, wealthy people.”

Lydia kissed Asher on his lips. “Oh, Jamie, it will be lovely to have a familiar face by the towside for once. New College are still in the Stewards’ Challenge. You’ll have at least one team to root for.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from New College Boat Club.” Asher picked up Miranda. “Come on, Miranda. Time to go to the railway station.” 

 

_London, July 1913._

Mrs Raleigh awoke one night to a multitude of things. She was hiding out in a plot in the Bank of England because of legal technicalities that helped the bank to be built. She was hungry. And although Grippen spared her life when he was fleeing Asher’s wrath, she knew Grippen wouldn’t trust her. She’d see a lot of lives Grippen didn’t spare to further his agenda. After Grippen was done hiding, she wondered if she would be next. 

With Grippen still in his plot, Mrs Raleigh escaped hers. From there she turned into a bat and left the Bank of England, not knowing exactly where she’d go. All she knew is that with Grippen and Asher around, it wasn’t safe to stay in the proximity of either man.

 

Grippen arose from his plot in the Bank of England to find Mrs Raleigh’s plot empty. “Bitch,” he hissed as he transformed himself into a bat and headed to the nearest coven in proximity to the Bank of England. Even if Asher killed all of his fledglings, it wouldn’t take him long to start another lair, with or without Mrs Raleigh.

 

_Oxford, 9 July 1913._

Ysidro’s original intention was to go back to Spaniard’s Row after arriving in London. But he felt he should go to one more place before retiring in his London home. He decided to go to Asher’s home in Oxford before returning to London. 

It was late at night when Ysidro arrived at Asher’s home. Asher was working on some documents in his study. One moment, Asher was scribbling away on these documents. The next, Ysidro, in his usual gray, was in front of him. 

“I decided to take a holiday in Paris,” Ysidro said. 

“I still remember our shared dream. I haven’t forgotten.”

“I am glad you have not forgotten our dream. I have come to check on the Mistress and _la niña._ ”

“They’re both asleep.”

“I don’t want to wake them. Let them rest. But I would still like to see them.”

Asher stood from his desk. “Follow me.”

Asher lead Ysidro to his bedroom, where Lydia was sleeping. Much like in their shared dream earlier, Ysidro leaned over Lydia and kissed her on her forehead. Asher lead Ysidro to his nursery, where Ysidro stroked Miranda’s head. 

The two returned to Asher’s study. “Farewell, James,” Ysidro said.

“Goodbye, Ysidro.”

Ysidro clasped Asher’s hands with his claws. “Remember.”

“I will.”

And before Asher realized it, while he was expecting something else from Ysidro—something uncharacteristic of him, like a hug or even a kiss—Ysidro was gone, into the night and on his way south to London.


End file.
